


Crema Verse Prompt Fill #9

by twobirdsonesong



Series: Crema Verse [11]
Category: Glee
Genre: Crema verse, Drabble, Gen, Pre-Relationship, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 20:48:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twobirdsonesong/pseuds/twobirdsonesong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>jaiden-hawthorne asked: Hi. I don’t remember reading this in your Crema story, but what exactly went down on the Brooklyn Bridge that landed Kurt a job as Carrie’s assistant?</p><p>synchrogleek asked you: Could we have a drabble/ficlet/whatever on the day that Carrie found Kurt on the Brooklyn Bridge and how he became her assistant?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crema Verse Prompt Fill #9

The day is bright and beautiful and Kurt Hummel has the world at his feet.  He has the sun on his face and the wind in his hair and a degree in Fashion Design from Parsons: The New School for Design to his name (a name that will one day be on the lips of every single person in the fashion world, if he has anything to say about it).  He can do anything he wants; he wants to do everything.

That afternoon in late June, Kurt stands on the pedestrian path of the Brooklyn Bridge, rests his elbows on the sun-warm steel, and just absorbs the world around him.

He loves the web-like pattern the cables of the bridge make as they crisscross across the sky.  He loves the rumble of the cars in the lanes below and the endless shuffle of people walking past him.  He loves the glimmer of the water and the way the sunlight reflects off the innumerable windows of New York City.  He doesn’t come here often, it’s a little out of his way, but every time he does he just feels at peace.  It’s not so much that the skyline is inspiring.  Many designers are able to draw from the sharp lines and great heights of the skyscrapers, but Kurt is not one of them.  He doesn’t see clothes in the grand, solid arches of the old buildings, or the off curves and distinct edges of the new ones.  He doesn’t see fabric in the grit of the sidewalk or the peeling paint of old graffiti.

But Kurt feels  _design_  in his fingertips, all the time.  He touches a tablecloth and knows how he’d want to transform that dull, useless square of fabric into something lovely.  He brushes against someone on the Subway and thinks about how he’d take their shapeless skirt and tear it apart and turn it into a scarf instead, because the fabric is horribly unflattering for a skirt, but the pattern is adorable.  He sees a man, or a woman, on the street and immediately redresses them.  Of course, depending on the man, sometimes he undresses them with his eyes, but usually puts a better outfit back on them.

Kurt has got his sketchbook out and his favorite pencil twirling idly between his fingers, and he is waiting for his next burst of creativity to come to him.  Sure he’s graduated from school and he’s got the summer to himself (and maybe a part-time job if he can get one) before he slides into the MA program in Fashion Studies at Parsons (it’s expensive, yes, but he’s got scholarships lined up and isn’t beneath taking out a loan if he has to), but the need to sketch and plan and  _create_  never goes away.  He doodles hemlines on napkins and lapels on business cards.  A kid with a faux hawk and a pierced eyebrow slipped him a scrap of a paper with a number on it at a bar the other week, and Kurt ended up sketching a pretty little sundress on the back of it. 

(It’s not that he’s not interested in finding someone, he’s just…cautious.  He’s pretty sure there’s someone out there for him in that crowded little island, but he hasn’t found him yet.)

“Those are beautiful,” comes an oddly familiar voice with a distinct New York accent.  “Are they yours?”

Kurt turns and his jaw drops open wide.  Carrie Bradshaw – renowned columnist, bestselling author, and Fashion Editor of Vogue magazine – is standing right there next to him.  Next to her is a tall man wearing a suit (even though the day is proving warm for June) who Kurt has seen only a few times in the papers, but he knows him for her husband, John Preston.

“Hi,” Kurt says, and he automatically stands up straighter as he puts his pencil down.  “I, yes, yes they’re mine.”

“I’m Carrie,” the woman says, and she sticks her hand out for Kurt to shake.  She’s wearing a gorgeous, form-fitting sheath dress in a bright, bold flower print and a pair of nude stilettos that Kurt knows are Manolos without even having to look at them.

“I know who you are, Ms. Bradshaw,” Kurt says, and he hopes his palm isn’t as sweaty as it feels.  An honest-to-god celebrity has just approached him, because of his _sketches_.  And not just any celebrity, but Carrie fucking Bradshaw.  Kurt has seen many things in his four years in New York, and has had some amazing experiences, but he’s never felt so in awe as he does right then.

“I’m Kurt.  Kurt Hummel.” 

“You’re a designer.”  Carrie gestures at the sketchbook that’s still open on the steel barrier of the walkway. 

“I’m a student.  I just graduated from Parsons the other week.”  Kurt glances over and feels a little tingle of pride at the whimsical ball gown that’s splashed across the white page.  “Top of my class,” he adds, and he can’t help but preen a little at Carrie’s approving little nod.  He still doesn’t know why she really stopped to talk to him, but she did, and if their conversation ends here and he never, ever sees her again, then at least he can always say he caught her attention with his sketches.

Carrie glances up at her husband, and Kurt watches as John nods slightly at whatever question is in her eyes.

“Mr. Hummel.  I’m going to be in need of a new assistant in a few months.  Mine went and got pregnant and is now moving to Chicago with her husband-to-be.  That seems to keep happening to me.”

“Your assistant?”  Kurt doesn’t understand.

“I certainly can’t do my job by myself, now can I?  I tried for about a week before I nearly ran out screaming.  I even almost started smoking again.  When Anna Wintour tells you to get an assistant, you get an assistant.”

“Of course.”  Kurt still doesn’t know where this conversation is going, but his heart starts to race in his chest.

“I’m offering you a job, Mr. Hummel.  As the Assistant to the Fashion Editor at Vogue.”  Carrie smiles at him, all white teeth and sweet reassurance, and Kurt can hardly comprehend the words.  “If that’s something you’d be interested in.”

The world drops out from beneath Kurt’s feet.  He can hear nothing – not the wind, not the screeching of the seagulls overhead, not the streams of traffic beneath his feet – nothing save for the pounding of his blood in his ears.

“I’m,” Kurt pauses and swallows against his suddenly dry throat.  He doesn’t know what to say or do.  He wants to say he’s horribly under-qualified for such a job.  He’s only twenty-two, the ink has barely dried on his undergraduate degree, and there are probably tons of people within the walls of Vogue itself who’ve been clamoring for the job for years.  The world has just opened up for him in a way he never, ever thought it would, at least not at this age, and he doesn’t know what to do.  He’d planned on going back to school in the fall; he’d already made a tentative plan of study with a few professors, but this.  This could be  _everything_.

Kurt glances between Carrie and her husband, and Mr. Preston merely cocks an amused, defined eyebrow at him as if to say, “What the hell can you lose, kid?”

There’s so much that could go wrong if he does, but – Kurt closes his eyes for a brief moment and lets a new plan for his life flash before him – but everything could go so very right.  He just has to take this opportunity by the hand and go with it.

“Well,” he says finally and he grips the strap of his messenger bag to give his hands something to do.  He’s about to change his entire life.  “I can assure you I’m not bound to get pregnant.”

Carrie claps her hands together and lets out a little squeak of delight.  “Oh good.  I was hoping you’d say yes.”  She reaches into her purse and pulls out a business card to hand to him.  Her smile is infectious, even if Kurt’s stomach is rolling and lurching with nerves.

“The position starts in September, that’s when my former assistant leaves.  Call the office on Monday and we’ll start getting the paperwork in order – salary, benefits - all that sort of stuff that I don’t actually know much about.  I keep trying, but I just can’t stay on top that sort of thing.”

“Well, that’s why you have an assistant,” Kurt says as he turns the glossy card over and over between his fingers.  He’ll be certain not to doodle anything on this one.

“Exactly.” Carrie grins at him again, and Kurt cannot believe anything right now.  “Well, we’ll let you get back to your sketching.  It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hummel.   See I’ll you in September.”

“Yes,” Kurt knows he sounds dazed but he can’t help it.  His whole world just changed in five minutes.  He shakes Ms. Bradshaw’s (his new boss  _oh god_ ) and Mr. Preston’s hands and watches as they continue on along the pathway across the bridge.

“See you in September.”


End file.
